


Transatlanticism

by Regency



Category: General Hospital
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 05:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3924574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regency/pseuds/Regency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Because five years is a very long time not to call or write. (Sporadic communication between Luke and Laura, from Port Charles to Paris, year by year.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2008

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: I. Diverges from established canon from Laura’s final scene in 2008. II. Every pairing deserves at least one Transatlanticism-inspired fic. Also a little bit inspired by Kt Tunstall’s “Other Side of the World.” III. I’ve re-written a bit of the last five years, because I feel they’d have been different had Luke been in constant contact with Laura.

~!~

_Can you help me?_

_Can you let me go?_

_And can you still love me_

_When you can’t see me anymore?_

_\--Other Side of the World, Kt Tunstall_

~!~

**2008**

                Laura dried her tears once she couldn’t see Luke on the tarmac anymore.  _This is it, this is where we stop.  It’s for the best._   She took a deep breath and tried to believe that, working to quell the anxious tripping in her chest that came from imagining a life so far from the people she loved.

                She shook herself. “Get a hold of yourself. You can do this.”

                “You sure can.”

                Laura jumped up to see Scotty step out of the crew cabin.

                “Scotty, what are you doing here?”

                “I’m going to Paris.  I figured you could do with some company.”

                “You figured I could ‘do with some company’ so you snuck aboard my son’s plane without asking either of us?”  She clutched her beg a little tighter.

                “I asked Nikolas!”

                “No, I know you didn’t, because he would have told me you were coming.  I’ve given you leeway, Scotty, because of our history together.  Don’t make me regret my faith in you.”

                Scotty sat heavily in one of the plane’s plush seats.  “I wanted another chance.  You and me in Paris.  What could be more romantic than that?”

                She leaned toward him without rising.  “I can think of a dozen things more romantic than blatant stalking—and it is stalking, Scott.  You stowed away on Nikolas’s plane to follow me to another continent where I have nobody to vouch for my safety.  Don’t tell me none of this has occurred to you.”

                “Well, it hadn’t.”

                “Oh, _please_.  My isolation is exactly what you’re counting on.”  Laura raised a hand to interrupt his protests.  “Maybe, _maybe_ you don’t have nefarious intentions, but your intentions can’t be good when they run counter to my request for _time_ , Scotty. I told you that nothing would happen between us, romantically.  Nothing.  We can be friends— _maybe_ friends, not that that’s looking good for you at the moment—but anything more is off the table.”

                “ _Why_?  Spencer is…I don’t know, he’s happy with Tracy, somehow.  He’s not coming back to you, so why can’t you come back to me?”

                Laura huffed, incredulous.  “Because it doesn’t work that way— _I_ don’t work that way.”  Laura laced her hands together in front of her, digging deep for a little more patience.  “Just because Luke and I are over that doesn’t mean I can just transfer my feelings for him to you.  I love him and I will always love him in some capacity.  Right now, _he_ holds my heart.  Even if I were amenable to a romantic relationship with you, which I am _not_ , I don’t have anything to give you.”

                “I could wait.”

                “Don’t. Please don’t wait on me.  You have found true love beyond me before and you can do it again.  I can be your friend, but that’s all.  Is that enough? I mean, could it be?  I don’t think I have many left myself.”

                Scotty visibly swallowed his need to argue his case.  Laura was grateful.  She couldn’t do with anymore disappointment today.

                “It could be enough, if you’re sure.”

                “It’s the only part of this whole thing I am sure of.”  Laura offered her hand.  “Friends?”

                Scotty came over and grabbed on, not smiling but not so heartbroken.  “Friends.”

                Laura’s cellphone buzzed in her pocket again and she hurried to retrieve it before Scotty could complain.  It took her a minute to work out the controls, but she opened the text message soon enough.

                _Call me when you land.  – Luke_

Scotty shifted in his seat.  “You know you’re not supposed to keep your phone switched on during takeoff.”

                “Yeah.  I guess not.”

                Laura took the last few seconds to text back: _Okay._

                She wasn’t sure why.  She didn’t know what was left to say.

…

                Laura had taken for granted that Paris was a different world. She’d come here with Lesley Lu when she faked her death years ago and been comfortable enough, plagued as she was with anxiety for the family she’d been forced to abandon.  This time, stepping into Roissy Airport felt immediately permanent, like a death sentence had been handed down while she was in the air.  Where before there’d been the certainty that events would allow her to return home someday, Laura had none of that now.  If anything, they’d drift further and further out of her reach the longer she remained away.  That was the fear that prevented Laura from setting foot outside the terminal.

                Luke answered on the second ring.

                “How was the flight?”

                “Long.”

                “You get in okay?”

                Laura surveyed the emptying terminal, ruefully.  “Sure.”

                “Any idea where you’re staying?”

                Laura tucked her back between a column and a cold window.  “Ah, not really. It’s straight to the Institute for evaluation, then I’ll figure something out.”

                “Let me know if you need help arranging a place. I know some people in Paris.”

                “I bet you do.  I think I can manage, thanks.”

                “The offer stands.”

                “I appreciate that.”

                Laura turned to one of the wide glass panes that bracketed the boarding gates, offering a few of the runways outside.  Planes came and left in their steady way.  She felt like they were passing her right by.

                “I heard Baldwin’s disappeared without a trace.  He wouldn’t happen to have infected the prince’s plane, would he?”

                “Funny you should say that. I got an unexpected guest on my flight just today.”

                “Kid’s gotta work on his security.”

                “I’ll mention that the next time I speak to him.”

                “The kids are getting antsy already, don’t leave it too long.”

                Laura added that to her tally of time missed. Weighed against years, it shouldn’t have mattered, but it mattered so much.

                “It’s been eight hours, shouldn’t you be asleep?”

                “Asleep and awake all over again.  It’s breakfast.”

                Laura checked her watch.  _Still on Port Charles’ time._   She sighed.  “Jet lag, one thing I did not miss.”

                “I bet Baldwin ranks higher than that.”

                Laura spotted Scotty lingering near the duty-free like a dog without a home.  “He’s weighing heavily on my sympathy.”

                “Don’t let him get to you.  Taking in strays is all well and good until they piss on the Persian rug.”

                Laura turned away to hide her laughter.

                “Luke, I don’t even have a house. There’s nothing for him to piss on.”

                “He’ll bide his time.”

                “He’s my only friend for the moment, he’s allowed.”

                “Uh uh, that’s where you’re wrong.  You may be on the other side of the world, but you’re not alone over there.  Every one of us is a phone call and transatlantic flight away at most.  Don’t you forget that.”  That should have been reassuring, but Laura only felt lonelier, thinking _at least they’re together._

                A uniformed chauffeur arrived with a neat printed sign displaying Laura’s name.  _He must be from the Institute._

                “My ride’s here.  I have to get going.”  She listened to the ease of his breathing and for just a second imagined he was next to her, that he might want to be.

                “Well, thanks for calling.”

                “Thanks for asking.”

                Luke paused and Laura waited.  “You know you can always call me when you need to, don’t you?  Whatever you think I said out on that tarmac, I don’t ever want you thinking you can’t rely on me.”

                “I shouldn’t.”  She had run out of time to beat around the bush.

                “Never stopped you before.” 

                “Maybe it should.”

                “ _Call me_.”

                “Be careful what you wish for.”

                “Wishing got us into this situation.  I’ll take my chances.”

                “Goodbye.”

                “For now, angel. Just for now.”

                Laura didn’t dare to get her hopes up.

…

                _How’re things? – Luke_

_Fine. – Laura_

_How’s Paris treating you?_

_The way it treats everyone.  The food is good. The weather’s beautiful._

_You never talked about the doctors, so I figured you must be healthy as a horse._

_Was that a question?_

                There was a protracted silence before her phone lit up.

_I expected you to call again._

_I expected you to ask again._

                Another pregnant pause, this one long enough for Laura to pour herself a cup of coffee.  They used to fit love letters into silences this big.

 _We’re a sorry pair_ , he wrote back.

 _Sorrier by the day_ , she didn’t send.

 _Speak for yourself,_ she sent instead.

                3,625 miles apart, keeping face was all there was.

                And, well, regret.


	2. 2009

**2009**

                _Cooking classes_ , she got out of the blue one day in March.

                Raising an eyebrow, she wrote back, _I didn’t know you and Scott talked._

_We are not discussing that ingrate._

_It seems we are._

                She could hear his responding eye roll across the Atlantic.

                _Answer your phone._

                It was the first time she’d heard his voice in months.  She’d had to keep it short; she got a hair in her eye.  That was her story and she wouldn’t change it under pain of death.

…

                _Angel, there’s something you need to know._

                That was how she found out about Ethan.  She didn’t say much about it to Luke or anyone.  But she did go out with Scott a few nights after.  It was a disaster as much as it was just what Laura needed.  Still, she gave that reheated romance two dates before letting Scotty down easy for what must have been the fifth time.  He was as graceful as a disappointed bull in a ring, which was no less than she deserved, she supposed.

                _Going backward will always lead to disappointment._   Laura was starting to wonder if any of her old true loves had really been true at all.

                The few times Luke wrote afterward, she found she had less and less to say.


	3. 2010

**2010**

 

                Laura was up to her neck in a fine romance the next time she heard from her rogue.

                _Recommend a good restaurant in town? – Luke_

                She was arranging a bouquet from the master chocolatier trying to steal her heart as she wrote back, _What side of town?_

_10 th Arrondissement._

                _Chantelle’s.  Tell them Laura sent you.  Don’t have the calamari no matter how much they push._

She had just been kissed under the awning right before a summer rainstorm blew in.  Her heart skipped a beat at the memory.

_Should I call a health inspector?_

                She giggled and helped herself to a decadent white chocolate truffle courtesy of Everard Otou.

_Order the shrimp risotto and the Petrus. It leaves the Mouton Cadet in its dust. Your stomach will thank me._

                Laura checked for texts from Everard and answered two.  They’d dine at seven and dance at nine.

_You’ve gone cosmopolitan._

She glanced at an out-of-the-way picture of the two of them.  Twenty years—thirty, really—and this was what they had.

_It’s not the land of beans and franks, but I do all right._

_Bananas Foster?  I’m assuming it doesn’t include a big brown dog?_

She smiled.  That man could make her smile wider than anybody, even from a world away.

_Skip it. Have the crepe suzette._

_You’re a lifesaver._

_Nothing you couldn’t Google._

_You know me and technology._

_Says the man who disengaged an ice machine._

_You save one Podunk little town and people think you’re Superman._

_That’s not why._

_Believe you me, angel. I know._

                He called five minutes later to complain about getting cramps in his thumbs from all the texting.  They very carefully didn’t discuss who Luke was romancing and Laura very carefully failed to mention why she now knew Paris’s romantic destinations by heart.  Not all was forgiven, but for these phone calls, things could be forgotten for a little while.


	4. 2011, Pt. I

**2011**

Laura grew accustomed to radio silence. There were entire months where she heard nothing at all from the other side of the world.  She got letters and texts and the odd email; nevertheless, distance ensured the Laura was often the last to know when events went horribly wrong.

…

                It was noon of a spring day when Elizabeth called.  Laura had been debating returning to the Institute to handle paperwork or sending out an all-call for lunch with the girls when a funny thing happened. A text from Lucky arrived at the same time as a call from Liz.  The text read _SOS_ and Laura picked up immediately.

                “Elizabeth, what’s wrong?”

                What began as mere sniffled grew into chest-rattling sobbing on the line.  Laura sat.  She was afraid she’d fall if she remained standing.

                “Honey, talk to me.  What’s going on?”

                The sobbing quieted to wheezing.  Laura’s eyes began to sting in sympathy.

                “I just got a text from Lucky, so I know it isn’t Lucky. Is it Nikolas?”

Liz croaked, “No, not Nik.”

“It isn’t Luke…right? Tell me it isn’t.”

                Liz’s breath hitched.

                “Is it Luke?  Elizabeth, you’re scaring me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

                Liz sniffed wetly.  “Oh, god, there was an accident.  It was a couple of days ago. It doesn’t feel like it, it feels like yesterday but it must have been the other night.”  Liz slipped into a silence punctuated by muffled whimpering.

                Laura drew her knees up to her chest.  “Who did we lose?”

                “I know you might not care.”

                “If you and Lucky care, I care. Tell me what’s wrong.”

                “It’s Jake.  Jake’s dead.”

                Laura’s felt like she’d been kicked. 

                “Oh, Elizabeth, no.  How?”

                “He ran into the road and there were these cars and he was hit.  I left the door open and he ran out.  I didn’t see him.  He was hit! He was hit. He was so small and the cars were so big and going so fast.  I should have seen him. I should have _stopped_ him, but I thought he was playing inside. I didn’t realize he ran out the door until it was too late.  And he was just there in the middle of the road all…broken.”

                “I’m coming home.”  Laura was already thinking up counselors who could cover her patients at the Institute.

                “Don’t hang up! Please, don’t hang up. I don’t know who else to talk to. Nobody knows what to say and you always know what to say.”

                “I’ll try, sweetie. Talk to me.”  Laura didn’t make a call and she didn’t pack. She sat and listened.

                Liz talked. And talked and talked until she was hoarse.  Laura heard the story of that night until she could see every moment like she’d been there.  When Liz finally told her about her decision to donate Jake’s organs to Carly’s daughter, Laura broke down, too.  They sat on the phone and cried together. 

                Never had the other side of the world seemed as far as it seemed that day.  When Laura learned how Jake had gotten hurt, the other side of the world didn’t seem far enough.

                _I could kill you._

                She didn’t think she could hate a man she loved so strongly, but he’d proved her wrong.  He just kept proving her wrong.

                _Not if I get there first.  – Luke_

Laura heart seized for a beat.

_You don’t get to take the easy way out. Face her._

                _Call me._

_I couldn’t stand to hear your voice right now._

_I’m lost._

_He’s dead.  I can’t save you from that._

_Face her and if you can do that, I’ll talk to you._

                Luke didn’t call that night or the next morning, Paris time.  Laura was buying a ticket for New York before she stopped to think.  She didn’t know who was left to save, but she needed to save _someone._   She needed to be home.

                She was waiting outside the boarding gate to be called to board her flight when her phone buzzed to life in her jacket.

                He sounded pathetic. _Heartbroken._ Drunk. _Devastated._   Like he needed her more than his next breath.  She didn’t trust that she knew him anymore.  She didn’t have the sympathy to spare.

                “Where are you?”

                He grunted. The background din of burbling voices and indistinguishable Top 40 music told her he was in a bar someplace. 

                “Call somebody to pick you up.”

                “Who’d come?  They’d dump me in a ditch somewhere more full of holes than Swiss cheese.”  He guzzled a drink.  Laura winced, hoping it was cheap.  “I’d deserve it.”

                “Why did you call me?”

                “Knew you’d answer me. You always do.”

                “Call Lucky to have him take you home.”

                “I don’t have a home.  Nobody wants a baby-killing drunk on their couch.”

                Laura wasn’t in a position to argue the matter.  She was more than tempted to hang up on her ex-husband as it was.  She couldn’t do this with him when her children were at home grieving.

                “I have to go, Luke. I have a plane to catch.”

                “Don’t go. I’m beggin’ you, baby, don’t hang up. I don’t know what I’ll do if you hang up.”

                “I suspect you’ll have another drink.  At least have the decency to give the bartender your keys.”

                “I walked,” he hissed. “I’ve walked for days. I haven’t touched a car, I can’t look at a child. I can’t…”  Something thumped, thumped, thumped like his fist on a wall. “I can’t do anything. I can’t breathe.”

                “Neither can our grandson,” she retorted.  “Our grandson is dead because of you.”

                “I didn’t wanna hurt him,” he whispered.  “I didn’t see him, Laura. Honest, I didn’t see him. You gotta believe me. It was an accident.”

                “And you think more alcohol will fix this?”  Laura moved behind a large pillar.  “How many people have to get hurt before you take a long, hard look at yourself and realize the problem is _you_ , not destiny?”  Laura hid her face in her hand.  “You wrecked our family, our entire lives without me.  I understood before; I was sick, you did what you had to do to go on, but I don’t understand this. I don’t understand the things you’ve said and done. I don’t understand why you’re so determined to destroy what we had one happy memory, one happy _child_ at a time.  It’s like you hate anything that reminds you of me.”  She bit her tongue to stop her rant in progress.  “Forget it, let’s not do this.”  She never wanted to do this.

                “I don’t hate you, I don’t… I don’t hate the life we shared.  I hate myself, that I mess up every good thing that’s ever happened to me,” he slurred, sliding into that Elm Street drawl he’d trained out of himself years ago.  “I couldn’t protect you from your illness. I couldn’t protect our kids from anything.  I just keep failing left and right.  I don’t know why I’m here, but surviving’s all I know how to do. It’s who I am, Laura…it’s all I am.”  His voice cracked, on the verge of tears.  “I just keep going, racking up a body count along the way.”

                She wanted to hold him, to soothe the pain that must have dogged him for all this time, but Laura couldn’t help thinking of little Jake, her grandson who’d she’d held no more than a handful of times.  He’d been a baby and Liz had sworn she’d bring all the boys to Paris again, and Laura had sworn to come home for a visit—but not one of them had kept their vows, had they?  _I should have been there._

                “I have to catch my flight.”

                Luke’s breath hitched.  “I have a confession.”

                Laura was at the end of her rope with confessions.  Maybe she was better off with the lies that remained. “What?”

                “I didn’t marry her.  Not at first.  I faked it.”

                Her brow furrowed as it did whenever she thought of Tracy.  “When?”

                “2004. It wasn’t real. I just wanted the money.  Things spiraled out of control from there.  Lulu needed a roof over her head, I need cash flow.  Tracy offered both.”

                “She _offered_?”  Tracy wasn’t the soul of charity; Laura doubted his word.  There was the final call for boarding.

                “I helped myself.”

                “Sounds more likely.” Laura waved at the gate attendant to let him know she was coming.  She gathered her travel bag.  “She’s been good to both of you when I could not be there.  I will be forever grateful to her for that.”

                “She’s not you.”

                “I’m not her, either.  We both win and lose that competition.”

                “Come back to Port Charles.”

                Laura paused, _kismet_ on her lips.

                “I’ve finally figured out where I fit in here.  How can I just up and leave?”

                “The same way you left in the first place: get on the prince’s plane and fly back.”

                “You’re in no position to make demands of my time.”  Laura handed over her boarding pass.  She hadn’t thought to ask Nikolas for his private jet; she had gone where her instincts led her.

                “The kids miss you.”

                Laura sighed, walking down the breezeway.  “I talk to Lucky more often than you do.  I see Nikolas monthly, sometimes weekly if our schedules allow. I talk to Elizabeth about as often.”  More now. Laura had talked to her twice today.

                “Lulu misses you.”

                “Lulu barely know me enough to miss me.”  Her therapist would have a field say with this conversation, much as Laura tried never to discuss her presiding fears with the woman.

                “That’s not true.”

                “As true as anything you and I have ever said to each other. I love my daughter, but she’s your daughter more than mine and she has your heart.  It forgets very easily.”

                “Is this about how we left things?”

                “We didn’t leave things.  _Things_ ended.”  Bitterness clipped her voice.  _You ended this._

                “That’s never bothered you before.”

                “It doesn’t bother me now.”  Laura pursed her lips.  “I have a lot on my mind, understandably, and things that I need to deal with.  Let’s forget I said anything.”

                “Not twice, talk to me.”

                “I have a plane to catch at the moment. Go home.”

                “Not without you.”

                Laura’s steps faltered on the way to her seat in first-class.  He felt close, his breathing quick in time to hers.  Like he was right beside her and that he wanted to be again.

                “I’ll be in Port Charles in eight hours. Be alive when I get there.”

                “I’ll do my part, but there’s no accounting for the angry mob out for my blood.”

                “Meet me at Beechers Corners.  We have a lot to talk about.”

                “I’ll be there.”

                He didn’t sound drunk anymore; he sounded determined.         

                Laura was worried, but whether it was for him or herself she didn’t know.


	5. 2011, Pt. II

                She made Luke wait a day.

                Her first stop in town was the MetroCourt to deposit her luggage in her suite, and then right to her old place on Royal Street to see about her children.  There was a full house when she arrived, Lesley having flown home earlier in the year to see to Nikolas and Spencer.  Lulu let her in with an “oh mom” and a hug that didn’t end until Lulu released her to see to Liz.

                Never was Laura more reminded of the shaken girl who had come to her for understanding and had become her family.  Laura stepped into the kitchen where Liz was attempting to fix a meal to feed the people who had taken up residence in her house despite her trembling hands and wet cheeks.  Aiden was asleep in his bassinet near the counter whilst Cameron sat coloring at the table.  Lucky was visible through the back door, standing on the back steps, staring into the distance.  It was a scene out of her own history in some ways, the weight of her sins visited on her children.  The fog of loss hung oppressive in the very halls it had then, obscuring all they had left and the memories of what they’d once had.  But Laura had been here before; she knew the way out.

                Liz was mechanically reaching for a slice of Wonder bread to make one more PB&J sandwich than the mourning crowd at Royal Street could hope to consume in a day when Laura caught her hand.

                “That’s enough, honey.  Let’s try something else now.”

                Liz nodded, blinking back tears as she registered Laura’s presence.  “Okay,” she said.  “Okay.”

                “Cameron, why don’t you come help me and your mom finish lunch?  We could use a hand.”

                Her eldest grandson bounded up to the counter like he’d been waiting for direction all along.  He squeezed between them to slip under Liz’s arm and cuddle up to her side.  Liz began to shudder as sobs bubbled up in her chest.

                “I want my baby back.”

                Cameron hugged her around her waist; Laura held them both.

                “I want him back. Why can’t I have him back?  Please, please, god, give me my baby,” she wailed to nobody and anybody.  Laura let her cry, stroking her quaking shoulders and Cam’s downturned head.  Lucky was a bent figure on the steps, wanting so badly to be of help and not knowing how.  He was his father’s son that way; he needed her, too.

                Laura spied Lulu lurking in the doorway alone and beckoned her to join them.  There were years to make up for and hearts to mend; this time, every moment would count.

…

                Luke was half up from his armchair when Laura let herself into the room with the hotel clerk’s pilfered skeleton key.

He was the sorriest sight she’d seen in a day of grieving faces.  Eyes bloodshot and exhaustion-bruised, cheeks sallow and lip busted from a spat she’d yet to hear tale of.  His once proud posture was a shadow of itself slumped over as he was in his seat when he realized he didn’t have to let her in.  His hands went straight back to a quarter-full bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the chipboard desk.

She shut the door with force enough to make him flinch into his brown liquor.

“Who got to you before me?”

“Leave me alone.”

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow.  “I told you I was coming.”

“’Bout damned time.”  He was all Elm Street and none improved for backsliding.

Laura crossed her arms as she looked him over for more injuries.  It was nigh on impossible to distinguish the wounds outside from the damage within seeping out.

                “Why’s it seem like I’m your first call when you’re in need of redemption?  Some men call a priest, but not you; you ring me up.”

                “I waited,” he rebutted.

                “Looks like that’s about all you did.  The clerk said you hadn’t left the room all day.  He thought you might be dead of alcohol poisoning.”

                He burbled, “Might be better.”

                Laura snatched the bottle of Jack away from him.

                “Hey!”  He made a half-assed grab at her before giving up the chase with a grunt.  _Like the world has disappointed him instead of the other way around._   She was all disappointment.

                “Feel free to wallow in the bottom of that glass for a while since that was last call.”  Laura climbed onto his bed to sit against the headboard.  She put the bottle beside the lamp on the bedside table.  Much as she could do with a drink, she couldn’t let him see that.  She needed to be the steady one; she had to be his rock.

                “I can get more anytime I like.”

                _That’s a change from earlier._   Perhaps she shouldn’t have made him wait.  Her work counseling the other LS-49 recipients told her that lives were gained and lost in the moments when they thought nobody cared.  Despite herself, Laura cared.

                “This family has endured all the loss it can for a very long time.  You’re welcome to keep hating yourself, but you don’t get to run away from us.  Because as angry as we are at you, we love you, and losing you and Jake at the same time is more than we can bear.”

                “I’ve been a burden a long time, angel.  Lulu made excuses. Lucky made ‘em. Ethan only ever knew me like this and even he learned I wasn’t always a sure bet.  Tracy knows.  Nobody doubts it now.  No sirree, no question Luke Spencer is the monster the gossip mongers always said he was.”  He swished the dregs of his whiskey in the lamplight, watching as it cast a muddy light show on his hand.  “You laugh at the universe enough, it’ll kick you in the face.  I oughta be used that by now.”  He knocked back that last swallow, and then lobbed his tumbler at the wall.

                Laura glared at the shattered mess it made on impact.  So much for taking off her shoes.  “Was that really necessary?”

                “Don’t know, you tell me; you seem to have all the answers today!”  He staggered upright like he might try pacing on for size only for his legs to betray his stupor in a matter of feet, depositing him ass-up at the end of his unmade bed.

                “Got that out of your system?”

                “Don’t antagonize me, woman,” he cracked back, muffled as he was by the duvet.  He turned to scowl up at her past his furrowed brow.

                Laura had talked hopeless men off ledges, she wasn’t frightened of him.  But then, very few men in all the world could hold a candle to Luke Spencer when he was spitting mad.

                “If you’ve got a problem, now’s the time to complain.  I doubt you’ll get much of an audience outside this room.”

                “Don’t remind me.”

                “Somebody should.  You need to be reminded.”

                “No.”  He buried his face in the covers.  His spine was a tense curve under his shirt. She wanted to take that fear he wouldn’t give a name and carry it herself, but that wasn’t for her anymore, was it?

                “Where’s Tracy?”

                “Where’s anybody?  I’m a dead man walking, they’re just waiting for the call.”

                “They’ll be waiting.”

                “Not long, I don’t think.”  He was resigned to it, she thought by the sound of his voice.  He had decided this should be when and why his life ended.  Laura could only think why it shouldn’t be.

                “Have you ever been a patient in Shadybrook?”

                Luke shifted onto his back in sluggish increments, finally coming to fix his eyes on the spotty ceiling.  “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

                “I have.  It’s boring, the food is bland, and the view is terrible from every room.  You think you want to die now, spend some time there and you’ll be looking for sharp objects.  The same goes for the Institute.”

                Luke skipped his eyes in her direction.  “You tryin’ to tell me somethin’?”

                “Just thinking out loud.  How can somebody with every second chance known to man be ready to throw it all away?”

                He propped himself up on an elbow, scrutinizing her for a lie.  “We talkin’ about me or you?”

                _Both, either. Not so different._

                “I’m making small talk, doesn’t have to be about anybody specific.”  Laura could really use that drink about now.  And a relief counselor.  The tools that guided her work were lost to her when Luke Spencer was the patient.

                “I’ve had a whole boatload of second chances, Laura.  I don’t think we can even call ‘m _second_ chances anymore. We’re on twenty at least.”

                “I’ve had plenty myself.  Sometimes, it’s not another chance we need, but a whole new life.  The weight of our past mistakes can be the hardest thing to overcome. Some people can’t and no matter how much love and hope you put into them, they can’t overcome the hatred they have for themselves that’s grown and grown.  Redemption isn’t enough.”

                “He died,” he remarked as though she’d managed to forget in between this breath and the one before.

                “He did, but you being gone won’t put him back in Liz and Lucky’s arms.  What it will do is burden them with guilt.  It will burden them and it will break Lulu’s heart, and it will shatter mine.”  Laura brushed the backs of her hands across her cheeks and was unsurprised that they came back stained with mascara.  “I’m not asking you to suffer, I’m asking you whether the life you think you owe in exchange for Jake’s is any kind of gift.”

                He inhaled tremulous and slow.  Red spots dotted his cheeks where spirits had made him high at his lowest.

                “I don’t want to die,” he croaked in the growing dark.

                “I don’t want you to die,” she replied.

                Luke dragged himself along the bed to lay his head on her lap, and then he cried.  Laura cried, too, though much quieter.

                “Okay, angel,” he sniffed, rubbing his cheek against the fabric of her jeans.  He gave her his word, he would stay.

                Nothing was fixed, just about everything was broken, but Luke Spencer had been saved again.  It was all Laura could do not to flee from the subtle click she felt inside as things fell into place.

                Some habits were hell to break.

…

Laura woke to the distinctive song of crickets denoting the late hour.  She lifted her head to check the time, hissing soundlessly at the painful hitch in her neck.  It was well after nightfall, close to ten o’clock if she’d read her watch right.  Luke had fallen into a deep slumber before she had, his arms locked in a vice grip about her hips, his face a perfect picture of misery even in repose.  Then again, she imagined they’d all look like that for some time yet.

She drew her fingers through his snow white hair, remembering when it was longer, curled, and gold.  _You were larger than life and everything to me.  What happened?_   Time had, she supposed.  Time happened to everyone; they were no exception.

“We’ll get through this.  Believe me.”

Laura’s cellphone sounded from her jacket pocket.  It was Elizabeth.

She answered the call.

“Honey, talk to me.”

Liz talked and wept from the false privacy of her bathroom and Laura tried to soothe her pain.  She would be trying for weeks.

Amid acting as mediator for her sons, confidante for Liz, comfort for Lulu, and conscience to her ex-husband, Laura gave up any plans for returning to Paris.  The time for healing herself was over.  It was time to heal her family, too, and bring them back together.

Laura had come home to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Lyrics are borrowed from “Other Side of the World” by Kt Tunstall. I don't own any characters recognizable as being from General Hospital. They are the property of their actors, producers, writers, and studios, not me. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made in the writing or distribution of this story. It was good, clean fun.
> 
> If you guys wanna talk/flail/flop with me on Tumblr, I'm [sententiousandbellicose](http://sententiousandbellicose.tumblr.com).


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